Cactus Design
by kasugai gummie
Summary: [FujiRyo] ‘He was certain that this invasion by the alliance of desert flora hadn’t taken place yesterday.’


**Disclaimer**: Konomi is a very successful man. Very celebrated man. With, alas, too many pretties on his hands.

**Warnings**: Fuji/Ryoma, slash, indeterminate time-line setting (hypothetical college years), voyeur cacti, Inui cacti, and better transitions but in forever need of revision.

**Notes**: Originally known as **Fuji, Ryoma, and Cactus Plants** and written for the "spreading of awareness" for the FujiRyo fandom, this piece was first and foremost a tribute to my nameless first cactus baby (may he Rest In Peace and Loving Memory). It was also my first Thrill Pair piece to assault unwary eyes. Now, three years later, with self-proclaimed "better" titling skills, I feel like I'm finally ready to move out of the fandom—thus the extensive revision wherein I added 400 more words and graduated the ficlet into a full-blown fic. It's been a fun ride and be sure that I will be making extensive revisions to _all_ my FujiRyo works before truly exiting. Chances are I might even stick around a bit longer either way. ;3

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**Cactus Design **  
by kasugai gummie

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He really should have noticed it sooner: how those little objects were _so_ very conveniently scattered around the newly furnished apartment; how the little pots were somehow set in the _most_ unobtrusive places. It was rather unnerving to step out of the shower and suddenly be made aware of the prickly pear tucked snugly under the steady beam of sunlight on the window sill after all. Especially since the heinously spiky succulent most definitely _was not_ there the last time he took a shower—and that was only twelve hours ago.

It was as if his significant other was trying to make a statement. Or had already set out, in his uniquely impeccable manner, to the task of methodically marking every single aspect of boy wonder's life with his signature-like personal touches.

Actually, Ryoma suspected that Fuji was a lot more dogged than he let on, fickle though he may otherwise seem. Not that he was complaining though; the way that their personalities would continuously challenge and complement each other kept the relationship alive and interesting.

Still... if there was one thing that Ryoma actively disliked, it was the knowing of when he was being outmaneuvered. That general sensation of helplessness against the overwhelming odds wasn't a feeling that he'd willingly accept.

_This_ just happened to be one of those situations.

He was almost positive that the unexpected clutter of cactus plants wasn't present the night before.

Scratch that. He was _certain_ that this invasion by the alliance of desert flora hadn't taken place yesterday. They'd just moved in together last week too... He wasn't even sure if they'd finish unpacking the kitchen yet.

The first year university student passed another vaguely irritated look over the small expanse of their bedroom where the bobs and stalks of green proved to be most concentrated. Those little stubby stumps with their crown of needles seemed to be _mocking_ him from their perches on the headboard, desk, closet ledge, and any other convenient protrusions. They looked so innocent in their ceramic pots, cute even, but the knowledge of who was behind their entire installation cast a rather insulting shade on the whole scenario.

That's right. Echizen Ryoma was just the _slightest_ bit offended by the irredeemable schemer he called a boyfriend. His two-faced, prodigy of a boyfriend who was really just too quiet while padding barefoot across the floorboards.

"Welcome back." Fuji stopped just behind, draping himself over the Ryoma's shoulders and following the connect-the-pots path of the flickering gaze.

"... yeah."

Fuji was all innocence and bright fuzzy furries. "Well?" he prompted as he tilted his head to the side, resting his chin on a warm collarbone. "What do you think?"

But Ryoma knew better. He turned his head to stare incredulously at the prodigy's smiling visage.

Fuji continued to smile patiently. "I took the liberty of accessorizing the flat while you were gone."

Obviously. So Ryoma continued to narrow his eyes in the most harrowing manner.

"I think they're cute." Fuji paused to look critically at one of the cacti on the windowsill. "Although I think the Christmas cactus should go next to the night—"

"Syuusuke."

Fuji paused to gaze curiously at the dark haired boy who looked decidedly petulant with his flat, unyielding expression.

"I'm not sleeping in a room filled with cacti."

"Hmm?" Fuji looked ingeniously... clueless.

"I. Am. Not. Sleeping. In. A. Room. With. Twenty. Some. Pots. Of. Living. Death," Ryoma annunciated carefully, slanting an irritated glare to the side in order to address the now thoughtful expression on Fuji's face. "Especially not when I can recognize more than ten as ones that Inui gave you for Greenery Day. Knowing him, he'd probably genetically engineered them from that health-hazard he calls edible..." Ryoma refocused on a particularly large specimen as he trailed off into a dark mutter.

"You don't like them then? Any of them?"

"Not really."

"Oh. That's too bad."

Ryoma tensed, chanced another peek at Fuji, and found himself just the slightest bit unsure at the now closed expression. This was still a challenge of some sort, he was sure; dating the prodigy for five years granted him that insight, at the very least. But the hidden motives behind it all might be in need of some re-thinking...

He recalled that Fuji had made some sort of offhand comment about his collection during the first few years of their relationship... during the first of their few, but truly heated arguments, and as a passing reference when Ryoma had demanded something along the lines of, "You're going to _make_ me? You and what army?" no less. But predictably, he had dismissed it without a second thought.

Maybe now...

Twisting his head to the side to search his boyfriend's face for any (nigh non-existent) hints, Ryoma finally found the brief flicker of whatever clue he was searching for. The distant cast of half-mast blues; the almost imperceptible tilt down on an otherwise relaxed mouth; the absolute dead-weight that Fuji had become in the last minute also helped too, he supposed.

Ryoma sighed grudgingly. "Fine. Whatever. Do what you want."

Fuji brightened, sensing victory only a head tilt away.

"But, the ones that Inui gave you are all getting moved into the kitchen. ALL of them."

"Of course."

Ryoma huffed again, disgruntled at the speed in which the former prodigy tightened his arms around him and the lessening of the deadweight.

Fuji was undeniably triumphant. Just as he'd first accepted Karupin into their relationship (after having an impromptu staring match with the cat and finally, mockingly asking it for permission to date its master), Ryoma's grudging acceptance of his quirky little hobby signified that same agreement. Disentangling himself from the younger man, he smiled sweetly. Oh yes. In whatever strange symbolic actions known only to Fuji Syuusuke, this little conclusion rather clearly sealed Ryoma's fate.

"Well then." A kiss was pressed to the base of Ryoma's neck before Fuji turned to regard him with a disgustingly pleased smile; his most infamous expression which never failed to challenge anything within a ten-foot radius. Almost nonchalantly, his casual manner only offset by the calculating glint in the depths of sharp blue, he started forward, backing his boyfriend further into the room in the process.

Ryoma arched an eyebrow the moment he felt the wall jumping out to press flush against his back, turning a vaguely curious gaze at the other boy. Hmm, apparently Fuji was more than just happy with the turn of events. He smirked; despite what that might entail in the far future, he couldn't really complain with how immediate events were progressing.

"Syuusuke?"

Fuji smiled, contemplated the renewed suspicion on Ryoma's face with his own amused expression. Finally, he gave an almost imperceptible shrug before he pressed his lips to the younger boy's face.

"Hey, Ryoma—"

A kiss on the temple.

"—can we at least keep the zygo cactus by the night stand?"

"Was it grown from Penal-Tea?"

"No."

Another kiss, this time on the lips.

"... fine."

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**Fin**  
Completed: 10/24/03  
Revised: 03/03/06


End file.
